Marked
by bonnyblonde
Summary: Seen through Tara's eyes, the scene is set after the fall of Terminus and the reunion of Carol and Daryl. Carol devises a way to help Daryl get past the lingering guilt he feels at not having searched for her following the attack on the prison and the scattering of its occupants. A tale of love and acceptance. Fluffiness ahead, one-shot only.


Was having an interesting discussion on Twitter, and the question of why Daryl wouldn't have gone looking for Carol after the prison fell came up once again. Lo and behold, inspiration struck, and this wee fic practically wrote itself in a matter of hours. Thanks for the inspiration, **Jennifer Melton and Deana Folsom,** and thanks** Denise Esterline** for the fact check! :) Sorry, no smut this time around...just sweet lemony fluff and an explanation I desperately needed for Daryl's conduct.

P.S. I know _nothing_ about tattooing, so don't go judging me. I did a little research but indulge me and suspend your disbelief if need be, pretty please?

* * *

Tara shifted nervously on the stool, clicking the battery-powered tattoo needle on and off. "Are you sure about this? I only did this for a few months before I joined the police academy and in all honesty, I really wasn't very good at it."

Carol looked up from tracing her design onto the transfer paper and smiled at her reassuringly. "It's very simple and only one colour, so I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Maybe we could put it somewhere other than the side of your neck," Tara tried to convince her new friend. "Then if I mess it up, you don't have to look at it every day. How about your shoulder blade; that way, you could cover it up with your shirt if it totally sucks?"

"No," Carol answered serenely, picking up a pair of scissors and trimming the excess paper away around the tiny pattern. "It has to be clearly visible at all times. It's not just a tattoo, it's a message. Daryl has to see…"

She trailed off and Tara went still on her stool, the silence capturing her full attention. "Has to see what? Couldn't you just _tell_ him how you feel without permanently marking yourself?"

Carol let her hands drop to her lap as she met Tara's inquisitive gaze. Tara was once again taken with the beauty of the woman in front of her, how she practically glowed with confidence and grace despite all she'd endured. "I've told him a hundred times that I've forgiven him for not coming to look for me after Rick sent me away," Carol sighed resignedly, "but he can't forgive himself yet. If you knew how tightly he holds onto me at night, as though I might disappear with the sunrise…oh Tara, you'd understand. He's sure I'll wake up one morning and hit the ground running as I come to my senses, or we'll eventually meet up with someone else who will prove himself more 'worthy' of my love. So yes, Daryl has to be able to see this and know that I've made my choice."

Standing and walking over to the cloudy mirror hanging on the wall, Carol cleaned a spot on the dusty surface with a tissue so she could see the site she'd chosen for the tattoo more clearly. "I don't know if I could do it if I was you," mumbled Tara, sorting through the drawer until she found a sealed bottle of 'Purple Iris' tattoo ink. "Forget what happened, I mean. Hooking up with some guy who left you for dead…"

Carol bowed her head for a moment, taking a somewhat shaky breath before answering. "I can see how it would look like that from where you sit," she admitted quietly. "And believe me, I asked myself some pretty tough questions about how my past life as an abused wife might be influencing my decision. But what Daryl did after the prison fell, he did out of fear – fear of finding himself completely alone, a fear that's been fed by everything that happened to him when he was very young. I don't even want to think about what he might have done if he hadn't had Beth with him – if she didn't need him to protect her and keep her alive. Or if he'd hadn't been found by that group of thugs so soon after Beth was taken…"

Carol turned and Tara winced, seeing the single tear track down Carol's cheek and knowing she was the cause of it. Before she could apologize for prying, though, the older woman spoke again.

"He couldn't look forward, he couldn't look back…he was just barely surviving as it was. It might not seem like it, but he's not as strong as you'd think. Physically, sure, there's no denying that. But he hasn't had to face any of this by himself yet and the prospect of setting out solo, even if it was to find me..." Carol paused and swallowed hard before turning back to the mirror. She took a pink disposable razor in hand from beside the small sink where she stood, carefully shaving away the delicate hairs from the spot she'd chosen for her tattoo. "He couldn't do it. After losing so much, including me, Daryl simply wasn't capable of striking out on his own."

Looking at the man, Tara would never have guessed he was anything but a force to be reckoned with. Whenever he turned those glacial blue eyes in Tara's direction, she'd glimpsed only unnerving intensity and dogged determination. At the same time, she'd have had to be completely oblivious to miss the way he managed to stay close to Carol in any given situation and tracked her every movement, how he stared at the woman with a desire that far transcended something as simple as mere lust. "He loves you," she said with dawning realization, more to herself than Carol. "God, more than I've ever seen one person love another…"

From the reflection in the mirror, Tara watched as Carol's cheeks turned bright pink. "Almost as much as I love him," Carol shared with a sweet smile. She tilted her head and sprayed a light film of fluid onto her smooth, pale neck before applying the transfer. "If I reject him for being the only person he knows how to be, it would destroy him. And it would destroy _me_ to hurt him even more than he's already been hurt. Imperfect as we both are, we're perfect for one another."

Tara pulled on her latex gloves and shook up the tiny bottle of ink as Carol came to sit beside her. "I still don't get why you need the tattoo, though. You're back, you're together again. You share a room with him every night, for Christ's sake – what does a tattoo prove?"

Carol tipped her head to the side and reached over to tug her stray greying curls out of the way. "It marks me as _his_. I know, I know – it's not very feminist of me. But by doing this, by putting this symbol where not just he but _everyone_ can see it, he'll know I haven't been telling him only what I think he wants to hear. He'll know I mean it when I tell him there's no one else I want…that regardless of what happens, I'll never love anyone but him."

There was an ache in the back of Tara's throat and for some weird reason, her eyes burned slightly. Must have been the fumes from the alcohol swab Carol had used to clean the spot, she told herself. She dabbed some Vaseline over the faint stencil on Carol's neck, dipped the needle into the ink and flicked the switch on. "Okay, just breathe normally and don't flinch. I'd hate to have to cover this up with some freaky looking purple grapes or vines or something."

The process took far longer than Tara had thought it would, especially considering how small the image was and the fact that she only had to use one colour, but she'd been determined to do the best job she could. A lot was riding on such a simple tattoo, and she was going to be damned if she ruined the course of true love with a stupid slip-up.

"How's it look?" asked Carol, stretching the arm that had held her hair in place for almost an hour. She just about touched the spot and Tara had to grab her hand to stop her. It was beautiful, the little purple image: a small bow within a large bow, and a single arrow. Not a crossbow, certainly, but it would definitely get the point across.

"Uh uh…don't do that!" Tara chided. "We'll need to put some gauze and antibiotic cream on that for a few days. But to answer your question," she added, breaking out into a wide grin, "it actually turned out pretty awesome, if I do say so myself!"

Carol hurried over to the mirror and gasped with delight as she examined the artwork. "Oh wow! Tara! I knew you could do it. It's perfect. I don't know how to thank you!"

"What's perfect?" came a masculine growl from the parlour door. Carol instinctively swung around with a hunting knife in hand before she saw who it was and breathed a sigh of relief. Tara wasn't so quick to relax, though, when she found herself pinned beneath the weight of Daryl's unforgiving, accusatory gaze.

"Um…it's…well, that is…" she stammered guiltily, shoving the evidence of what she'd been doing into the drawers in front of her as if her dad had caught her rolling joints or something.

"Come see," Carol said, smiling the soft smile she reserved for Daryl alone. She held out her hand to him and after leveling one last suspicious glare at Tara, Daryl stalked over to where his woman stood waiting and curled his fingers around hers. Although it felt like a deeply private moment, Tara couldn't seem to get her ass off the chair and clear out. The scene before her was as riveting as any Hollywood blockbuster, and the romantic in her simply had to see it through to the end.

When Daryl saw the tattoo, his scowl disappeared instantly and Tara could almost have sworn that his eyes misted over. His hand hovered over the fresh ink for a few seconds but in the end, he clearly knew better than to make contact and risk soiling the wound. "It's…Jesus, Carol…"

"Two bows, one arrow," Carol whispered, cupping his jaw tenderly and giving him a look of such adoration Tara's heart just about collapsed in on itself in ecstatic third-party bliss. "Two people, one life. Do you see now? As long as I wear this on my skin, I'll love you. You'll never have cause to doubt what we have again. And everyone who sees it will know that we belong to one another."

The suddenness with which Daryl swept Carol up into his arms startled Tara and caused her to jump slightly, but she felt her heart flip when he kissed Carol with such unreserved passion that the woman practically melted in his embrace. If she was ever lucky enough to find someone to love her like that, there wasn't anything Tara felt she wouldn't be able to handle.

When Daryl's hand slipped beneath Carol's tank top and began to work its way over her ribs, Tara's eyes widened in alarm and she cleared her throat to remind them of her presence. As they reluctantly broke apart and turned their gaze her way, she stood and started backing away.

"Yeah…so anyway…Carol, you be sure to protect the site, change your gauze often and smear it with that ointment. Let it get better on its own, don't scratch even if it gets itchy, and allow it to heal properly so that the design stays intact. I'll just be going…leaving you two to…um…well, whatever."

Tara almost tripped over an overturned chair on her way to the door but she was practically home free when Daryl spoke. "Wait…can you...? Tara, please wait."

When Tara turned, she saw Carol looking at her lover quizzically. "Is there any of that purple ink left?" he asked quietly. "I mean…if Carol makes another stencil, would you put that same double bow on my neck, too? A matched set, y'know?"

This time, Tara didn't even attempt to hide the tears of joy she felt for them. "Sure, Daryl. It'd be an honour," she sniffled, completely undone by the happiness she was witnessing. Even in the zombie apocalypse – or maybe even because of it – happiness could take root in the strangest of ways.

~fin~


End file.
